


Possibly

by One_Day



Category: Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: F/F, Future Tense, this doesn't mention names but Lyn is the narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 19:30:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11515926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/One_Day/pseuds/One_Day
Summary: She knows it can't be mere wishful thinking.





	Possibly

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhh I kinda had this in my drafts for a while, but I kinda lost motivation to work on it. Not completely happy with it, since I think the flow and pacing is just.....really off, but I'll just post it here anyway.

We will live free.

 

Free together on the plains, where there is not a soul to tell us who to be or wonder what we have become, where the empty space thrums with energy that we feel in the roots of our hair and at our fingertips, sparking and lighting in tiny bursts.

 

We will run swift and cheerful through the long grass, wild like the weeds that spring up in every nook and cranny of the outdoors, between craggy old stones -- the kind with the tapered purple buds and jagged leaves like our hearts worn rough but soft enough still to love. And in the same way we will thrive untamed. The wind will sing with us, carrying the pitch only as far as a stone’s throw, until our throats become hoarse and our voices just dissipate into whispering laughter and silent smiles that say everything. But even then, we will still weave melodies like we weave the dried prairie grass, folding the smooth blades one over the other with just the barest pulse fluttering in our palms to keep tempo.

 

It will be just you and me against the world -- like when we were small and tumbled from broad branches but feared not to climb again, because the bruises on our knees were the only reminder of our blunders, and that trivial pain was a small price to pay for happiness. 

 

Back then, we were children who knew of nothing but life. 

 

Sometimes, we will come across others that live like we do, roaming alone across fields. We may wander with the nomads but shall stay no longer than a day, which will never be enough but allows time for rumbling laughter and tales of spirits and swordswomen that dance together and take shape in the flickering firelight. Spinning, spinning, spinning, fading. We will never see those people again. But their horses will remember the way we fly in, smelling of rain and hay, the way we stroke them and smile with our eyes like we understand what it means to be strong and fast and free.

 

And we will.

 

We  _ will _ know because the wind won’t be against us, it will be in us and every sigh will be a swirling tempest somewhere across the world, where the mountains spiral high with snowflakes and our friends of the past live, peering through glowing yellow windows and reminded of us. They will speak our names with nothing but joy in their faces and never sadness because how can you frown when surrounded in the eye of the storm and the rain pours down only gently around you, cold enough to feel but warm enough not to hurt?

 

The chill will be liberation on their skin.

 

In the afternoon, you will soar through the skies, chasing the geese into the red dawn and I will watch and wait for you to return. When you do, the sun may have hidden and the moon come out to greet us with its pale, wan light, but we will never worry for food or shelter because it will find us when we call. We will sleep in caves and trees, among the roots with the sleek foxes and tiny mice who treat us as if we are of their same kind, and maybe we  _ are _ intrinsically, like if you boiled away the hair and the skin and the speech in the blinding sun, there would be no difference, no way to distinguish man from animal with just the glittering glass crystals of the soul resting cold in your hand.

 

Around us, cricket-song will crescendo louder and louder, echo in our ears until eventually the insects too tuck their legs beneath them and settle down for the night. All that remains will be the noise in our heads -- just the memory of the sound.

 

We will wake to a sunless silence with just the hint of gold on the horizon, and you will shake the dew from your hair as the wild creatures do, sending shimmering silver scales cascading down to the cool dirt. Then I will grin (how can I not) and wipe the sleep from your eyes so that we can watch the midnight tones of the sky fade and bleed away, taking the heaviness in our bones with it. As purple brightens to soft orange, we will remember that the stars remain, shining ineffably as if the sight of it is burned into the backs of our eyelids to see when we blink. The sun will emerge slow and warm like molten iron and we will watch until our necks tire from craning up at the sky, reaching wildflowers with petals wide to embrace the day.

 

In the mornings, we will taste the salt in the air that blows in from the wide, crashing sea, sweet and green and crisp as fresh picked herbs. It has come so far, we will think, but we have come farther, seen more landscapes than one can even imagine, things that take more than a lifetime to commit to memory. We leave the images behind us nestled between tree branches and in our footprints.

 

We will fill our days with whatever comes.

 

And I will be full. Full on the wind and the rain and the earth, so full of everything that it all just overflows and spills out in  _ I love you I love you I love you! _ So much -- too much you see -- that I cannot bear, and I worry that by saying so I’ve ruined it when I haven't, I haven't at all because this way there will be no more maybes or possiblys, words that stack upon each other like a fortress to collapse at the slightest breath; so much that the thought is there in every simple action and exchange between us, no matter how mundane.

 

Out here in the waiting field, sound and movement gather together to wed us, whisper vows into our ears and shower down petals that cover our shoulders, invisible, leaving only a fragrance in the breeze that we will strain to pinpoint.

 

When we are strong and whole the plains will surge forth to meet us, send us off into the sky with beating wings. The sound will rebound from the edges of the mountains, echoing, echoing, and I will soar above the treetops where the birds will watch in awe, stunned by how big and new we’ve become. You will laugh and the sound will ring wide and loud like church bells. You will laugh because there’s power in it, power bubbling up in your chest because we’re here together in the clouds and the blue of the sky is so close,  _ so close _ \--

 

We could reach out and touch it if we wanted to.

 

I do.

 

When we no longer need pegasi to send us higher, we will drink in that scent of the earth and the air, smile before our muscles even remember how. The wind and fog and rain won’t hold us back any more, because we will be as giants, the swirling storms merely dew on our ankles, water for our horses.

 

We will have become free through each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry that it feels incomplete! I hope it was somewhat enjoyable of a read at least.


End file.
